


Fall

by veronamay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Religion, Repression, Temptation, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-24
Updated: 2006-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dallas.  A bar.  At two o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday, Jensen falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://lemmealone.livejournal.com/profile)[**lemmealone**](http://lemmealone.livejournal.com/) wanted conflicted angsty Baptist!Jensen. With sex. Where he smokes a cigarette on page three and the ninety-second word is 'eventually'. I managed everything but the sex – well, actual sex, anyway. Dear ren, does fantasising count? As for the rest: the mechanical bull is also for [](http://lemmealone.livejournal.com/profile)[**lemmealone**](http://lemmealone.livejournal.com/), but mostly it's for me. The Corona bottle and the pool table are for [](http://moonythestrals.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://moonythestrals.livejournal.com/)**moonythestrals**.

Jensen had always been a good boy. When he was six years old his daddy told him to mind his manners, read the Bible and never do anything that'd make his mama cry. Jensen had promised, and he'd stuck to it all his life because he loved his family and he wanted to do right by his Maker.

He'd known that eventually, one day, he was going to fall. It was human nature. But he grew up, and girlfriends came and went, and he liked them and loved them and still, 'eventually' never happened.

Then he met Jared, who had a dimpled grin and a lazy drawl and was like the other half of him, and Jensen discovered why it'd always been so easy not to stray. Eventually, when Jensen met Jared, he learned what real temptation was.

Now here they were in Dallas, in the loudest, tackiest redneck bar Jensen could think of on short notice, showing Jared around his town. It was two o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday, and after nine months of denial Jensen was fast coming to the realisation that he was going to hell.

Maybe it was the beer that was the last straw, or the Cuervo, or maybe just the exhilarating sight of Jared across the room. Head and shoulders above a crowd of people, he was laughing and comfortable with strangers the way that Jensen never was. Jared looked over, including him, his smile crooking into a more intimate expression, and it was just ... simple. He felt something break inside him, or maybe it was snapping into place, and it was like he could already feel the flames licking around his feet. Jensen smiled back despite his fear, because you couldn't not respond to Jared, and Jared's eyes lingered on him for a moment before he turned back to his conversation.

A minute later Jensen looked up from his beer at the sound of raised voices, and saw Jared being lifted onto the mechanical bull in the corner of the room. He was laughing and protesting that he was crap at this, always had been, he was probably gonna fall off and break his damned neck. But he stayed up there anyway. The day Jared ignored a challenge was the day the earth stopped spinning.

Someone hit the power button, and Jared started to rock.

Slow at first, just a little canting of the hips, adjusting to the rhythm. Jensen watched as Jared learned it, grew more confident, settling into the saddle and tightening his thighs, one hand locked on the horn. He nodded at whoever was running the thing, yeah, take it up a notch, and it edged into a slow swaying motion. Jared went with it easily, his upper body steady as a rock while his hips twisted and tilted below.

Jensen lifted his beer to his lips and drank without tasting, eyes fixed on Jared, a tug of war pulling at him inside.

After a minute, the bull's speed ratcheted up to a real buck-and-roll. Jared let out a whoop and thrust his beer at someone in the crowd, sliding down in the saddle as the machine pitched beneath him. Jensen could see the sweat starting to gleam on his face and in the hollow of his throat. His imagination, always fertile, took that image of Jared and transplanted it into his bed: Jensen flat on his back, hands clenched around the headboard while Jared loomed above, riding him with the same look of joy and concentration he wore right now. Jensen could almost feel it. He could already taste the sweat on Jared's throat, knew how tight and hot Jared would be.

Twenty-eight years of Baptist upbringing cried out against his want, and picturing how his grandma would look if she knew the thoughts in his head made Jensen burn with shame. He remembered his Bible studies with cutting clarity, the hard-line attitude their minister took against the 'moral decline' of America, the announcement that anyone endorsing homosexual behaviour would be expelled from the church.

He was twelve when he first started noticing girls. Boys took a little longer, but by the time he hit fourteen he was pretty much bi, and all the way terrified.

Now he sat with his back turned while Jared swayed and undulated behind him, sneaking glances via the mirror over the bar, craving something he thought he'd beaten into submission years ago. Jared was hypnotising him without even trying, his hips and ass flexing in slow circles atop the stupid hunk of steel that Jensen suddenly hated with all his soul, because it wasn't him under Jared, and he didn't know how to make that happen or even if he really wanted it to. Jared was a good friend, they understood one another, and maybe it'd just be better if he ignored this ... thing ... altogether.

Jensen swung around despite himself to look as Jared climbed down off the bull, his laughter ringing clear across the room. He was sweat-gilded and beautiful, teeth flashing white as someone shoved a cowboy hat on his head and gave him back his beer. He raised it to his mouth, sucking the half-bottle down in strong swallows, and Jensen watched his throat moving in what felt like slow-motion. He _knew_ , without having to imagine, how that throat would feel around his cock. He knew how Jared would lick and suck and bite him gently, teasing at first, then getting down to business when Jensen clenched a hand in his hair. He knew Jared would make it good for him, that he'd make it last, and that he'd swallow without hesitation at the end.

Jensen lurched to his feet and fled into the side room, grabbing a pool cue and racking up a table on autopilot. It was empty in here, with everyone in the main bar clustered around Jared, and Jensen let the relative silence sink into him as he lined up for the break.

The quiet _snick_ of the balls occupied him, made him concentrate on something other than the turmoil in his gut. He sank ball after ball, bank shot, stun shot, draw back, bridge; exercising every trick he knew, getting himself back under control. Finally it was just him and the eight-ball at the far end of the table, easy as pie into the left corner pocket. He lined up the shot and took aim.

"Who's winning?"

Jensen's hand slipped, and the cue ball went flying over the table and thunked to the floor. He turned to face Jared, who still wore the hat along with his teasing grin, a brand-new beer in his hand with lime bobbing gently in the neck.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a jackass?" Jensen asked, walking around the table to get the ball. He positioned it back in the kitchen and extended the cue to Jared, leaning against the table, fishing for his cigarette case in the top pocket of his shirt.

"Only you, Jensen. You're the only one who'll sweet-talk me that way. Why d'you think I'm always trailin' after you like a little lost dog?"

Jared grinned when Jensen rolled his eyes, then smoothly lined up his shot and sank the eight-ball in about three seconds flat. Jensen experienced the unique sensation of wanting to strangle him and fuck him at the same time. He lit up instead, breathing deep, exhaling a smooth stream of smoke off to the side.

"I have no idea how Sandy puts up with you," he said.

Jared's face tightened; he walked over to the wall rack and hung up the cue.

"She doesn't anymore."

Jensen stared at him, unwilling to believe his ears. He stubbed out the cigarette without thinking, wanting to approach Jared, not quite knowing how.

"Since when?"

"Thursday." Jared glanced at him, a smile briefly twisting his lips. "You're not gonna start crying, are you, Jenny?"

"Fuck you," Jensen said automatically, but he was still trying to come to grips with it. "Holy _shit_ , Jared. Why didn't you tell me?"

Jared shrugged, coming back to the bar to claim his beer, leaning against it opposite Jensen. He ran a finger over the neck of the bottle and sucked on it. Jensen could smell the sharp scent of lime.

"Dunno," Jared said after a moment. "Wanted to lick my wounds in secret, I guess."

Jensen winced. "Not your idea, then."

"Not actually, no." Jared slanted him a look. "I didn't exactly argue about it, though. It's been coming for a while."

"You serious?" Jensen shook his head. "I thought you guys were – well, you know. Pretty solid."

"We were. For a while." Jared stared at the floor. "People change."

"Hell." He felt shellshocked, like he'd had his legs knocked out from under him. "I'm sorry, man. I wish you'd told me. I didn't even guess you were having problems."

"No reason you should."

"Well, yeah, but—" Jensen shrugged. "You could've cried on my shoulder or something."

Jared looked at him, a smile curling up the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, sure. And give you blackmail material for the next five years? That was never gonna happen, dude." He kicked out at Jensen's legs in mock outrage.

"A guy can dream, can't he?" Jensen kicked back, then came over to the bar and caught the bartender's eye, motioned for another Corona. When it slid down the bar he clinked it against Jared's, then sat on the pool table. Three feet wasn't much distance, but he needed it.

"To singledom," he said, ignoring the ache inside him. He didn't know what he wanted for sure yet; no way was he going to lay anything on Jared while he was getting over Sandy. Mutual or not, the break-up of a two year relationship wasn't something you forgot easy.

"To freedom," Jared added, tilting the bottle up to his lips.

Jensen followed suit, drinking quicker than he intended, feeling the gentle buzz hit his stomach and filter out through his limbs. He always knew he'd had one too many beers _afterward_. Yet another thing to make his grandma frown at him in his head.

Jared downed his entire bottle without pausing for breath, something Jensen had never been able to do. He thought about that, and Jared's gag reflex, and looked without thinking at that strong column of throat, those beautifully curved lips that would look so pretty wrapped around his cock.

"Uh," Jared gasped, lowering the bottle. He licked unselfconsciously around the neck and lip, chasing the remains of overflowing lime juice from the wedge trapped inside. Jensen choked on a breath, unable to look away as Jared's tongue came out to stroke the glass, pink and wet and _flexible_ , then poked curiously inside in an obscene gesture that brought Jensen fully, painfully erect in exactly no time flat.

Jared looked up just then, tongue still extended, and met Jensen's gaze. His lips curled around the rim, sucking, hollowing his cheeks for a split second before he pulled off.

"Somethin' on your mind, bro?"

Jared's voice was soft, but his eyes pinned Jensen in place with an almost physical pressure. That narrow green stare seemed to plow right through all his denials and arguments and rationalisations, laying him bare for all to see. Or maybe just for Jared. Either way, the damage was done.

Jensen swallowed against the fear in his throat. Took a breath. Tried to speak, and couldn't.

"Jensen?"

Jared came nearer, letting the empty Corona bottle drop to the bar and rattle onto its side. Something was kindling in his eyes, an expression Jensen had never seen, that made him shiver and drop his own gaze to the ground. It was too much; he couldn't look. Couldn't trust it.

Leave it be, one side of him whispered, while the other half cried out for _heat_ and _touch_ and _Jared_. Jensen started to tremble as he fought himself, unfamiliar need warring with lifelong expectations, and all the while Jared came closer until he was in his face, leaning ever so slightly, one hand on the pool table by Jensen's hip. His eyes were fixed on Jensen's burning face.

Jared said his name again, only it was just a breath now, warm and beer-scented. Jensen smelled him, smelled lime and tequila and sweat, and shook his head wildly at all of it, because how did you throw away a lifetime of teaching in a single wanting moment, without any kind of guarantee?

He felt Jared's tension drain slowly away, and the quiet sigh of, "Okay," he spoke as he pulled away. The taut-wire feeling left the air with Jared's body heat, his hand ghosting lightly over Jensen's thigh as he turned. It felt like a farewell. It felt like _sorry_ and _never again_. Jared's shoulders were tight as he started back to the bar.

Jensen couldn't stand it.

"Wait," and Jared was _right there_ , back in his space, big hands gripping his shirt, sliding up and around his neck and holding him still.

"Last chance," Jared whispered, and Jensen didn't know if he meant to back out or go ahead, but it didn't really matter.

"I want to fuck you," he whispered back, damning both of them, and Jared _moaned_. His eyes fluttered closed for the barest of seconds, head tipping back. Jensen didn't wait for a second invitation.

Jared's hands clenched on his neck when Jensen started kissing his neck, then slid up into his hair as he nestled them together, Jensen's thighs spread wide on the table with Jared pressing close between. Jensen wrapped his legs around Jared's hips like he'd wanted to a thousand times. If this was damnation, he didn't feel damned. He felt glorious. Jared's back flexed under his hands, and his skin was smooth beneath his tongue, and just because Jensen had never done this with a man didn't mean he was a novice. He kissed his way up Jared's throat and down again, mouthing and biting at the spot where his collarbone joined, sucking strongly. Jared's hands pushed his head in closer, encouraging, the hard ridge of his erection saying very clearly just how much he liked it, and Jensen slid one hand around and up under his t-shirt, palming a nipple, rubbing it in time with his sucking.

He could feel Jared's knees give, for just a second. Then Jared was pulling away, backing up, his eyes glassy and his bottom lip showing teeth marks.

"Stop," Jared gasped. "Gotta stop, Jen." He stared at Jensen, his hands twitching. Jensen, perversely, felt almost comfortable now despite the madness running through his veins. He leaned back on the table, resting on his elbows, making a smorgasbord of himself under Jared's gaze.

"Why?"

"You ..." Jared blinked and took a step toward him, stopping himself with a visible effort. "For God's sake, Jensen. You wanna do this here?" He gestured around the shabby room, the noise from the main bar filtering through, the very much open doorway between this room and undying notoriety.

Jensen had to think about it. He was buzzing with lust, his head clouded with Jared's taste and the only thought he had was how to get more, how soon, how long he could hold on. He licked his lips, chasing Jared's taste the way Jared chased the lime, and nodded. He didn't care where they were. He needed to _know_ , right now, whether this was worth the cost.

Some of that must've shown on his face, because Jared's expression melted from desire-disbelief-anger into something softer, and this time when he stepped closer it was to lay a hand on Jensen's neck without intent.

"Hey," he said. "No need to rush, Jen. M'not going anywhere."

That voice could calm a prison riot if Jared wanted it to. Jensen leaned into his hand, still fighting the urge to grab what he could get, knowing but not quite grasping the idea that Jared was okay with this. After losing Sandy, even never having shown an interest in anyone else, he was here, offering Jensen time, himself – pretty much everything, in other words. Jensen figured he could maybe stand to give a little back.

He looked up and met Jared's gaze, taking an unsteady breath.

"I want to know, Jared." He saw a flare of heat in those cat's eyes, swallowed, went on. "I want to know _you_."

Jared smiled, moving his hand up to trace the outline of Jensen's mouth.

"All you had to do was say it."

He leaned down, touching their foreheads together briefly, then his lips replaced his fingers and the world dropped away. Jensen had a fragmented half-thought - _fucking Corona bottle, fucking wasted on that_ \- and then Jared's tongue was where it belonged, in his mouth and half down his throat and he almost couldn't breathe but he didn't _care_ because this? This was perfect. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of for nine months, and it proved he'd been right to deny himself because now that he had this taste inside him he'd never get it out. Jensen pressed in closer, angling deeper, burying his hands in Jared's hair as they kissed back and forth, never fighting for control, letting it pass between them fluid and easy like everything always had.

They broke apart barely an inch, gasping for air, eyes locked together. Jensen could feel his body straining closer, and if that image of Jared above him in bed weren't setting his nerve endings on fire he'd already be naked and stretched out on the pool table. He leaned into Jared's neck, gripping fistfuls of shirt, wishing they could get from here to there without actually having to move.

Jared's arms came hard around him, comforting and familiar and more than enough to steady him. It was good to know that was still there, along with the wanting. He'd already ruined one cornerstone of his life tonight. He didn't want to lose another one.

"Come on." Jared leaned back and dropped a brief, but deep kiss on his mouth. "Pool table's startin' to look comfortable." His eyes gleamed, and Jensen almost choked, knowing he'd thought the same thing thirty seconds ago. Jared searched his face, his smile turning wicked.

"What?" Jensen cleared his throat, trying for nonchalance. Jared's grin just got wider.

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking ... Jensen, you are a very naughty boy."

Fuck it, Jensen thought, and returned the grin. With interest. He felt light, and free, and ready for anything.

"Yeah, well, you'll never know for sure unless you get us outta here."

He pulled away and walked toward the door, tossing a glance over his shoulder at Jared still standing there, mouth slightly open. Jensen let his lips curl just a bit more, tilted his shoulder, and a second later Jared was almost plastered to his back as they left the bar.

"Home?" Jared said in his ear outside, hands on his shoulders. Jensen leaned back into him.

"Home," he echoed.

Dallas. A bar. Three o'clock on a Tuesday morning, and if Jensen was going to hell, he was going to make the trip worthwhile.

END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337767) by [applegeuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/applegeuse/pseuds/applegeuse)




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